Heritage
by GreenHairBand
Summary: AU - Stiles Stilinski thought he was just a normal, run-of-the-mill, teenage kid, with a normal family and (mostly) normal friends but then a brutal home invasion sets off a series of events that will change his life forever...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note –** So this is an idea that I've been toying with for YEARS. And I've finally decided what to do with it. Hope you enjoy.

 **Heritage**

 **Chapter One**

 **I** sn't it strange how an experience can bring people together; people you thought would never want to be within ten feet of each other, let alone share an adventure? I know I sure think it's weird but this is precisely what happened to some of my classmates and me. Though at the time we weren't exactly class- _mates_. I guess I should start at the beginning.

My name is Stiles Stilinski…okay, it's not really but my real name is completely unpronounceable so I just go by Stiles. And I'm just what you would call your average, every day, run of the mill teenage boy…or at least I would have been if you had asked me a few years ago. You see, the experience I had changed me, changed me in ways I wouldn't have dreamed possible and because of this I suppose I'm exactly the opposite to your average, every day, run of the mill teenage boy.

It all started on a swelteringly hot day in July. One of those days where you can't seem to suck enough air into your lungs and sweat literally pours out of you. The whole of my history class (twenty-two children including me) and one incredibly dull teacher were all crammed inside a stuffy little room and forced to endure a tedious lecture on how and when sewers were introduced to different areas of the world. I think it was a relief to everyone when there was a knock at the door, cutting Mr Eades off midsentence.

The door opened a fraction and a small, grey head popped through the gap. The head belonged to the school secretary, Mrs Johnson, who was notoriously soft-hearted and would allow most children to go home whenever they feigned illness. She blinked at us several times from behind over-sized spectacles before speaking.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Sir, but the new pupil has just arrived and I wondered if he could join the class, even though it is a little late."

I glanced at the clock. 'Little' was an understatement. There were barely fifteen minutes left before class ended and school closed for the summer. Why had this newbie even bothered to come?

I tapped the shoulder of the kid next to me and he jerked in his seat. His name was Isaac Lahey and he had been my best friend and next door neighbour since the beginning of middle school. Isaac looked up and his bleary, unfocused eyes told me that I had just woken him. That sounded about right. He slept through most classes.

"New kid," I informed him with a grin. "Five dollars says he's a complete loser."

He grinned back. "You're on."

Now a smarter guy would have known that a bet like that was a lost cause. He would have known that the amount of losers in this world vastly outnumbered the amount of winners. But Isaac wasn't exactly what you would call a smart guy, at least, not when it came to money. I'd never met his real parents and he never spoke of them but his adoptive family, the Precotts, were rich. Not super, filthy rich but wealthy enough to be able to buy anything that their only child's heart desired and because of this, Isaac spent the whole of his adolescence thinking that paying vast amounts for computer games and losing money on hopeless bets was normal.

The class was beginning to buzz the way it always did whenever there was a new arrival. The girls especially seemed excited about the fact that this kid was male.

When Mr Eades decided to allow him in, Mrs Johnson disappeared back behind the door and I could hear her hushed whispers before the door opened further and someone else stepped in. There was a collective gasp when he did so.

He was certainly the oddest addition to the class we'd had so far. He stood at about six feet tall and had the kind of shoulders most rugby players would kill for. His coat was like something out of 'The Matrix', all high collar and long tail and his black hair hung over his face in long, greasy strands. He surveyed the classroom with cold, hard eyes before dropping his gaze to the floor to carefully observe the tiles as though they were the most interesting thing in the room.

"Class, this is Derek Watts." Mr Eades said. "I hope you will all try to make him feel welcome."

I leaned in towards Isaac. "Looks like you owe me big." I whispered.

Isaac didn't respond. He was staring openly at Derek, blue eyes wide in what looked like shock and he was holding onto the sides of his seat so hard his knuckles were practically white.

"It's just five dollars, mate," I muttered.

His apparent despair caught the newcomer's attention and those unsettling eyes flashed briefly over my friend before fixing on me and his expression went from blank indifference to full on scowl. My stomach sank instantly, the way it usually did when I knew something bad was going to happen, and I felt an overwhelming need to leave the room. I shook my head and lowered my gaze, doing my best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling.

"Alright, Derek, why don't you take a seat? There's one next to…" Mr Eades trailed off as he realised the only spare seat was the one at the desk on my right. He remained silent for a moment, obviously trying to decide whether or not I would attempt to corrupt the boy but then he glanced at Derek and must have decided he was a lost cause anyway because he waved a hand in my general direction and resumed the mind-numbing lecture again.

Derek started down the aisle, his steel-capped boots clomping loudly on the floor, before he settled himself in the neighbouring seat and for the rest of the class I felt his eyes boring into my side. It was the longest ten minutes of my life!

* * *

Caffeine can cure anything. That's what I decided as I gulped down a can full of it. The freaked out feeling I had been carrying with me since class instantly vanished and I felt more like myself again. I sighed and leaned back against the wall, savouring the buzz energy drinks always gave me. Isaac had recently taken to telling me that I was like an alcoholic and needed to kick the habit but the advice came far too late. I was already hooked.

"Hey, man, when you've finished dosing yourself up, do you think you could hurry and join us on the pitch, already? Mr Andrews is getting impatient." A voice said to my right. It belonged to a boy called Tanner. He was in most of my classes and was the hotshot of the school. Smart, athletic and good looking to boot. There was no wonder all the girls loved him. That small detail usually irritated the rest of us guys but Tanner was the kind of person you just couldn't hate, no matter how much you wanted to.

I jumped up, full of energy by now and followed him out of the changing rooms and into the blazing hot summer sun.

Every Friday evening, we had soccer practice, no matter the weather. We could have six feet of snow with a chance of tornadoes and Mr Andrews, our coach, would still have us running laps out there. He was totally committed and always wanted us to be the best that we could be...in everything. It was a rule of his that if we weren't getting at least a 'C' in all of our classes then there was no soccer. I think that was the main reason he was hired to work in our school. That and the fact that he, himself was an amazing player. Rumour was, if he hadn't banged up his leg in an accident back in his teen years he might have even gone pro. Now he just settled for teaching us knuckleheads how to kick a ball around the field.

Only ten of us had actually bothered to turn up to practice. I guess the others had more important places to be, like barbeques and summer parties. Either that or they were just a lot smarter than us and knew that playing in a heat-wave like this was just begging for a migraine.

After Mr Andrews ran us through the usual warm ups, we put ourselves into teams of five and got ready to play.

In my group – or technically Tanner's group since he was the appointed captain – there was himself, Isaac, a kid called Rory, another who's name I could never remember so I just called him Steve, and me. All in all we made a pretty good team. Tanner was an excellent striker, Steve could tackle even the fastest opponent, Rory and Isaac were great defenders and I was more than decent in the net.

The other team had some great players too but I was feeling confident about this game. Well, I was at _first_ anyway.

As I put on a pair of protective gloves I caught sight of Isaac staring up into the stands with a look of total dismay. At first I thought he was just nervous about practicing in front of the gaggle of girls that had formed up there but then I saw who he was really looking at and my jaw dropped.

Derek Watts. Sitting alone on one of the benches in all his gloomy, gothic glory. And even from down where I was, I could tell that he was looking directly at us. A shiver ran down my spine and I turned away, just like I had earlier and wondered what was wrong with the guy and why he seemed to be following me.

Steve joined my side and gave a low whistle. He was looking up at the stand too but not at Derek. He had his eyes firmly set on the girls.

"Man, I swear the chicks at this school get hotter with every passing week. One day I'm going to go up to one of them and – "

"Get your head in the game, Steve." I interrupted and made my way over to the net.

"Hey, for the hundredth time, my name is not Steve, it's…" The rest of what he said was drowned out by the coach's whistle, signalling the start of the match.

Tanner launched himself into the game instantly and within seconds he scored the first goal. We all cheered and the girls screamed excitedly in the background.

Things like "We love you, Tanner!" and even, "You look great in shorts!" were being shouted down and Tanner beamed from ear to ear as he jogged back toward us.

For the next half hour we played as hard as we could. We scored another goal and I saved three attempts made by the other team but I was tiring fast and my head hurt like crazy.

The others didn't seem to be faring too well either. They were dripping wet and red faced as they sprinted back and forth across the pitch. Steve looked the worst. He was bent over double and heaving in air as though there wasn't enough to go around. Tanner clapped him on the back and tried to cheer him on but it didn't look like either of them could keep going for much longer.

"Come on, lads," Mr Andrews called. "Another ten minutes and you can all go home. You can do it."

I groaned inwardly, ran a hand through my sodden hair and settled back into a defensive position. The other team had the ball now and were coming my way, Steve hot on their tails. Isaac and Rory readied themselves, preparing to take the ball back and I shouted out insults at our opponents, trying to goad them into making a mistake. A cheap shot, I know, but I didn't really care at this point. The very thought of putting in more effort and diving for the ball again was exhausting in itself.

 _You're getting pretty tired there, aren't you, Stiles?_ A voice whispered. I stiffened and looked about but couldn't see anyone close enough to have said anything.

 _Oh yes, you're getting tired and so very,_ very _weak. You're pathetic. Those other players are going to wipe the floor with you._

I frowned and tried to ignore the voice, wherever it was coming from, as I watched the opposing striker getting closer and closer but the voice wouldn't stop and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't completely blank it out. Perhaps it was my subconscious trying to tell me I was over tired…and a lot more self-loathing than I would have ever thought.

 _You're going to fail. You're going to fail at everything you set out to do. Just give up. You're useless._

"STILES!" I heard Isaac yell, rousing me from my thoughts. Suddenly something struck my head. Hard. And I fell to ground with a grunt. The bright sky above me spun around a few times before being blotted out by several concerned faces that swam slowly into focus.

"Ow," I muttered and the others breathed a sigh of relief. Rory and Isaac put out their hands to haul me up. As I stood, my head gave a painful twinge and dizziness overtook me for a second but it was gone almost as quickly as it started.

"Sorry about that, mate," the other striker said. "I shouldn't have kicked it so hard."

I waved his apology away. "Nah, I should have been paying more attention. It was my fault."

Mr Andrews appeared by my side. "Is everyone okay?" he asked, handing out bottles of much needed water, one of which I took and gulped down greedily.

"We're good thanks, Sir," Isaac said. "Just tired and in desperate need of a shower." The others eagerly nodded their agreement and Mr Andrews smiled resignedly.

"Alright, practice is finished for the day. You can all go and I'll see you after the holidays."

I don't think I'd ever loved our coach more than in that moment and judging by the cheering around me, I guessed that everyone else felt the same.

On our way back to the changing rooms, Isaac stuck closely to my side, whilst the others raced on ahead, keen to leave.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he questioned me. "What happened to you back there? You completely zoned out."

"I'm fine. I just got too hot and lost concentration." I replied, deciding it was probably best to leave out the part where I started hearing voices. "All I need is an ice cold drink and a bed and I'll be - " I trailed off, feeling my throat constrict and stomach lurch.

Right next to the changing room doors stood our newly established stalker, Derek, still clad in his long leather coat which, in this weather, must have been torturing the kid even though he wasn't showing an ounce of discomfort. I stopped a foot or so away from him and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain himself but he just gazed down at me from behind a curtain of dark hair, smirking in a really creepy sort of way.

Isaac quickly pulled me back and stepped forward, like he thought Derek would try to hurt me or something, which wouldn't have surprised me really. Just standing this close to the guy was unnerving.

"You should leave," Isaac growled.

Derek only smiled wider before inclining his head, "Yes, I suppose I should, really."

His voice sounded strangely familiar and I stared hard at him, wracking my brain, trying to figure out if I actually knew him from somewhere but his face was mostly hidden and I couldn't make out any discernible features.

A few seconds passed by in silence before Derek pretended to doff an invisible hat, said "Gentlemen," like he was in some corny nineteen-fifties movie and turned on his heel to stalk away towards the school gates. Isaac watched him until he was out of sight.

"Kid has some serious issues." He grumbled as he went inside and grabbed his bag. "He better leave us alone next term or me and him are going to have a big problem."

I agreed and slung my own backpack over my shoulder. The strange feeling of dread was back and try as I might, I couldn't figure out why this guy had such an effect on me. My stomach was tying itself in knots the way it usually did before a major test or match. But I refused to believe I was actually _scared_ of him. I mean, sure, Derek was a little spooky but he was just a dumb kid with no apparent social skills or likable qualities. Perhaps this was just his way of trying to make friends. Huh, now _that_ was a scary thought.

"So, I was wondering if you'd like to stay over at mine tonight." Isaac said as we started for home, helpfully taking my thoughts onto more pleasant matters.

"Sure," I replied. It wasn't really uncommon for one of us to stay over at the other's place. In fact, in the last couple of weeks, Isaac must have slept over at my house every other day. It was almost as if he was afraid to leave my side.

"That's great!" He exclaimed happily with a clap of his hands. "I've got a whole bunch of new games that we need to try out. But you'll need to bring an extra set of controllers. One of mine broke the other day and by broke I mean my mother stepped on them whilst cleaning my room. As if it actually needed cleaning."

I grinned, knowing all too well that his room often looked like it had been ransacked by a group of over eager burglars who later decided not to bother taking anything. Isaac didn't believe in tidying or cleaning up after himself and there had been several occasions where I could have sworn I had seen something move within the mounds of clothes, books and game cases that covered his floor.

But even with the very real possibility of getting eaten alive by whatever it was that lurked in Isaac's room, I was beginning to look forward to the evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Home for me was a small semi-detached house on the corner of a quiet little street about a mile away from my school. It had a small front garden with a well-groomed rose bush and a neat circle of brightly coloured flowers that were Mom's pride and joy. I preferred the back yard. Just a big patch of grass that was perfect for soccer practice.

"You go on ahead," I said to Isaac when we arrived home. "I just need to grab a few things."

I fished out my keys from my bag and headed inside, yelling out a quick hello to whoever might be back from work already whilst racing up the stairs to my room. I emptied the contents of my bag onto the floor and grabbed a few things that I would need that night; some extra clothes, my toothbrush and the required set of controllers.

"No Isaac today?"

I jumped, spun around and then sighed. It was my Mom, Claudia Stilinski. She was good at sneaking up on people like that. I swear she was a ninja in a past life.

"Not today," I replied, zipping up my backpack. "I'm going over to his tonight."

Mom crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, are you now? Just like that?"

I sighed again, realising where this was going. She loved to remind me that I was still just a kid. "Fine. Mother, _dear_ Mother, can I _pretty_ _please_ go to stay at Isaac's tonight?" I made sure my voice dripped with just the right amount of sarcasm.

Mom gave me a wide smile and in a sickly sweet voice said, "Of course you can, honey. You're such a polite boy for asking."

I huffed a laugh, gave her a quick hug and started down the stairs.

"Hey," Mom called and I turned back. "Your dad and I need to talk to you tomorrow. We were going to do it today but he has to work late tonight so make sure you get back before dinner, okay?"

I nodded slowly. Usually when my parents needed to _talk_ , it meant I was in trouble. I quickly thought back, trying to remember if there was anything I had done recently that would have upset them but I couldn't think of anything. Well, that wasn't strictly true, but I couldn't think of anything that I had been _caught_ doing.

"Sure," I said brightly, covering my anxiety with a carefree shrug and headed out the door.

Isaac still hadn't gone in yet. He hadn't even stepped into his garden. Right in front of his gate stood a tall, shabbily dressed man that had certainly not been there a few minutes ago. His dirty blonde hair was matted and wild, rivalled only by his equally bushy beard. His ratty clothes were covered in grime and as I approached I was hit by the overwhelming stench of stale sweat and beer.

He seemed to be in deep conversation with Isaac who was looking more and more concerned by the second and I decided it was way past time to rescue him. The man glanced up at me as I approached and fixed me with a curious stare.

"And who might you be?" he asked.

His tone was friendly enough but there was something about him that put me instantly on edge. I don't know exactly what it was about him but I felt threatened. Not in a 'he's gonna' kill me' kind of way. More like he was challenging me somehow.

I didn't like it. Therefore, I didn't like him. I opened my mouth to tell him so when Isaac quickly intervened. He always knew when I was about to start an argument.

"This is my best friend, Stiles. And we really should be getting inside. He doesn't do well in direct sunlight. He's…um… allergic."

I only just managed to stop myself rolling my eyes at the blatant lie. Anyone with sight could tell I spent most of my time outside. My sun bleached hair and dark tan saw to that but I attempted to help anyway, nodding my head in confirmation.

The man scowled at us and for a moment I didn't think he was going to move, having seen through the obvious charade, but then he grunted, pushed himself away from where he leaned against the gate and shuffled out of our way.

We hurried inside and locked the door without a backward glance.

"Wow, that was scary." Isaac breathed. "Thanks for coming out when you did, mate. I was about ten seconds away from suffocating."

"I'm not surprised." I replied. "The guy _reeked_. Do you know him?"

Isaac shook his head. "I've seen him around a couple of times but I don't know him. And that's the first time he's ever spoken to me."

We made our way to the kitchen. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"I _thought_ he was going to ask for money. You know, he has that whole homeless vibe going for him but all he seemed to want to do is talk about his pet dog. It was weird." He shrugged. "Whatever, he's just another crazy in a world full of crazies. We've got bigger things to worry about right now."

"Like who's going to get the high score on all of your games tonight?" I said with a smirk.

Isaac heard the unspoken challenge. "Game on."

Mr Prescott was sat at the kitchen table, reading the morning newspaper and must have overheard us because he shook his head and sighed heavily when we entered. "Oh, Isaac, surely by now you have learned to stop trying to beat Stiles. I hate to break it to you, son, but the two of you are just not in the same league."

"Excuse me," Isaac retorted indignantly, "Stiles and I both know I'm the better gamer. I just let him win to make him feel better. Don't I, Stiles?"

That was a lie and we both knew it so I ignored the question and instead just waved. "Hi, Mr Prescott."

"Good afternoon, my boy, how are you?" Mr Prescott didn't wait for me to answer. "There's some Pizza in the fridge if you kids are hungry."

Isaac gave a happy groan, "Oh, pizza, food of the gods." He made a beeline for the fridge just as Mrs Prescott walked in. Cheryl Prescott always reminded me of the mom's you see in old TV shows. She wore her curly brown hair mid-length and pinned back, always seemed to be wearing an apron whenever she was in the house and she spoke in that clear, refined kind of way that made her sound like she grew up with royalty.

"Oh, boys, you're back." She smiled when she saw us. "How was school?"

"Boring, as per usual," Isaac said, still rooting through the fridge. "Had a good sleep though. How was work?"

"It was work," Mrs Prescott replied, "I'm sure you don't want me to bore you with all the details."

"I absolutely do not. Just thought I'd make polite conversation," Isaac joked as he pulled out a cardboard box and licked his lips. "Ah, here it is. And it's pepperoni. My favourite. Come on, Stiles, we'll eat in my room." He bounded past me and up the stairs.

I smiled at the Prescotts, excused myself and went to join my friend.

When we reached Isaac's bedroom, I couldn't help but gawk. I hadn't thought it possible but it was in a worse state than usual. His wardrobe and drawers must have been completely bare because there was a mountainous pile of clothes in the corner of the room, tall enough to almost touch the ceiling. Books, games and DVD cases had been similarly piled all around the room in a way that reminded me of stalagmites it a cave. His bookcase had, for some reason, been turned on to its side and was now home to a horde of figurines, some of which I recognised from different games Isaac and I had played in the past. They had been posed in a way that made them look like they were in the midst of a terrible battle. The only clear space seemed to be the cabinet next to his bed. It probably wouldn't be for long so I took the opportunity to stick my phone on there and charge it up.

Afterwards, I glanced around and realised there was one vitally important thing missing from the room. My bed.

Isaac seemed to realise what I was looking for. "That's where you'll sleep now," He said, indicating a small mound of blankets and pillows next to the fallen bookcase. "We had to get rid of the spare bed. There wasn't enough room for it."

I had a feeling there would have been enough room for it if Isaac actually put his stuff away. "I thought you said your Mom cleaned up in here?" I said, still in awe of what I was looking at.

"She did. But that was two days ago."

"You did all this in two days?" I said, aghast.

Isaac shrugged. "It's an organised mess. I know where everything is this way. For example -" He started digging his way through one of the heaps and then plucked out a five dollar bill, as if by magic.

"I believe this belongs to you," he said, dangling the bill in front of my face to take. "Although, I think the bet was unfair. I didn't realise that our school was allowed to take in a twenty-five year old stoner on steroids. If I did, I wouldn't have bet against you."

I laughed and snatched the money out of his hands. "It was fair and you know it. I'm pretty sure Derek isn't really twenty-five." I left out the bit about steroids because, hey, that bit was actually quite plausible. "But I'll admit, he does look older."

" _Way_ older."

We moved some of the piles so we could actually sit in front of the TV and Isaac showed me some of the games he wanted to play. Most of them involved guns and blowing up aliens and that was fine by me. They were my favourite kind.

For the rest of the evening, we ate pizza and played games whilst talking about anything and everything that came to mind until heat and exhaustion finally overcame us and we gave up trying to assassinate each other and went to bed. Well, Isaac went to bed. I climbed into the nest of blankets that was supposed to be the equivalent of a bed. It wasn't a comfortable sleep.

* * *

It couldn't have been more than two hours later that I woke up. The air was still stiflingly hot and although I had thrown off my blanket at some point whilst I slept, I was still drenched through with sweat. In contrast, my throat was so dry I could barely swallow. I groaned and pushed myself into a sitting position, knowing all too well that I would never be able to get back to sleep feeling like this.

Isaac obviously didn't feel any discomfort. He was quietly snoring in the corner, sprawled sideways on his bed with one of his legs dangling over the side and the other resting on a pile of books that was precariously close to toppling over.

The room was dimly lit by the static on the TV screen, that neither of us had had the energy to turn off earlier. It was something I was now extremely grateful for as I silently weaved my way in between the many heaps on the floor.

I peered out at the empty landing and grimaced. I had never liked being the only one awake in my own house, never mind someone else's. The eerie stillness unsettled me and any noise I made always seemed to be ten times louder than it should be.

Thankfully, I was well enough acquainted with Isaac's home to know which floorboards creaked and which steps I needed to miss in order to reach the bottom of the stairs with little risk of waking anyone up.

However, when I finally got to the bottom, I realised that I wasn't the only one actually awake. Candles still burned softly in the darkened corridor and I could hear hushed voices coming from behind the door that led to the kitchen. I tiptoed over to it, feeling suddenly conscious of my sweat soaked shirt but needing a drink of water so badly that it outweighed the embarrassment of having Mr and Mrs Prescott see me like this.

I raised my fist to knock on the door before I entered but the mention of my name stopped me mid-swing.

"Have you told Stiles yet?" It was Mrs Prescott that asked the question. Her voice was muffled by the wooden door but I could still make out the words. Curiosity won me over in an instant and I decided my parched throat could wait a few more minutes. I leaned in closer, until my ear was practically touching the wood, and listened.

"No we haven't, and we don't intend to until we know for certain." This voice was all too familiar. It belonged to my Dad.

"He's too young. We don't want to scare him," This came from my Mom. I frowned, wondering what my parents were doing here at this time and, more importantly, what they were keeping from me.

"I know he's young but you may not have a choice. If you want to keep him safe then you must tell him. They are here, in this city and closing in fast if what I've heard is true." Mr Prescott said.

"Which is why Noah and I have decided it's time to move on again," Mom declared.

My heart dropped. We were moving again? I thought we had stopped doing that. When I was younger, we were always moving around. Flitting from city to city, never staying too long in one place. But we had settled here. It had been our home for almost four years. I had friends and neighbours and teachers that were willing to put up with me.

"Where would you go?" Mrs Prescott asked.

"Well, we have been speaking about it for a while now and we're considering going back to Beacon Hills. Where we lived before we married. Before Stiles."

"Do you think that's wise?" Mr Prescott questioned. "You do know who lives there?"

"Of course we do, Walt." Dad replied. "But that's exactly why we want to do this. The guardians don't know about us and if the others follow…well, the guardians are very protective of their town. They can help - "

"Stiles?"

I sprung away from the door, heart pounding, to see Isaac standing at the end of the corridor.

"Are you okay?"

I shook my head. "We're moving," I muttered, clenching my fists so hard it hurt. "They're moving us _again_."

Isaac opened his mouth to say something but before he could utter a word there was a loud knock at the front door, making us both jump. The quiet conversation behind me instantly died.

"What the…?" I breathed. Isaac backed away from the door hurriedly, bumping into me in the process as I, without realising it, had already begun to creep closer.

"Stiles, don't," Isaac whispered when I passed him.

"I just want to see who it is." I replied quietly before looking through the peephole.

To say the face that greeted me was unwelcome would be an understatement. Though in all honesty, I couldn't really see that much of his face because of the tangled mass of black hair that hung over it.

I stepped back with a gasp.

"Who is it?" Isaac asked me.

At that moment, our parents burst out of the kitchen, their eyes widening when they saw us.

"Kids, what are you doing up?" Dad hissed.

There was another knock at the door and I scrambled further away.

"Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in," Derek called from outside.

Realisation dawned on Isaac's face. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your door down." Derek carried on.

"Stiles, come away from the door!" Mom cried. But it was too late. With an almighty bang the door was ripped from its hinges and flung forwards with unbelievable force. It happened so fast. All I could do was cover my head with my arms, wait for it to hit and hope it didn't kill me.

I heard the sickening thud as wood hit flesh and then the crash of the broken door as it fell to the tiled floor afterwards but strangely, I didn't hurt anywhere. Taking a deep breath, I peered through the gap in between my arms and saw Dad standing over me with his arms outspread and his face scrunched up in pain.

"Dad?" I gasped, trying to understand how he got to me so fast and how he was still standing after being hit by something that should have, at the very least, knocked him out cold.

"It's okay. I'm fine," he grunted, dropping his arms and stepping back to stand by my side.

"What a hero." Derek drawled as he stepped through the now gaping doorway.

"Kids. Backdoor. Now." Mrs Prescott ordered.

Derek shook his head. "Ah-ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. You see, a few of my friends decided to wait for you in your back yard. They had a feeling you might try to escape." I heard hasty footsteps in the front garden before some youths, three boys and one girl, stepped up to flank Derek. "Of course, _some_ of my friends don't intend to give you the chance."

Without warning, the youths leapt forward, arms outstretched and faces set in menacing leers. Dad pushed me out of the way and tackled two of the boys in mid-air, whilst Mrs Prescott and my mom, who I realised was brandishing a kitchen knife, rushed at the girl and remaining boy. Mr Prescott seized Isaac and I by the backs of our shirts and practically threw us up the stairs.

"Get out of here!" he yelled.

"But - " I started.

"We've got to go," Isaac interrupted, grabbing my arm and dragging me up the stairs with him. We flew into his room and he slammed the door shut behind him, panting heavily. The door did nothing to mute the angry shouting and crashing noises that came from downstairs.

"What is going on?" I cried.

Isaac only shook his head in response and then ran over to the window to open it. Moonlight spilled into the room, lighting everything with a white-blue hue. He sniffed at the air and then turned to me. "We're going to need to be fast."

"What?" I was struggling to comprehend what he was saying. I was struggling to comprehend anything right now.

"You heard what Derek said, right? His friends are out there. We'll need to be fast if we're going to outrun them."

"Shouldn't we call the cops?" I countered, grabbing my phone from the bedside cabinet and hastily jabbing the screen.

Isaac snatched the phone from my hands and threw it against the wall. It shattered on impact and I gaped.

"What did you do that for?"

"They can't help us, okay? Now let's move."

It sounded like an order. He had never ordered me to do anything before.

"But our parents - "

"Can look after themselves," Isaac finished. "Now, please, we need to leave."

I shook my head, hating myself for actually being tempted to do just that, to abandon my parents in order to save my own skin, telling myself that they would be fine. I had always imagined that I would be brave in this kind of situation; that I would be a hero. But in that instant, I didn't feel brave at all. All I felt was scared and confused. I was no hero. I was a coward.

Adrenalin surged through me.

Fight or flight.

Honestly, I'm not sure which one of these options I would have taken in the end but I never actually had to make that decision because at that moment the door swung open and Derek sauntered in. Isaac and I both backed up towards the window.

"Now really, Isaac, did you honestly think it would be that easy? I'm hurt." Derek clutched at his heart in mock offence.

"Why are you doing this?" Isaac asked and I was impressed at the calm he managed to put into his voice. He didn't seem to be freaking out at all.

"I have my reasons," Derek answered vaguely.

"We all do," another voice added. The girl from downstairs strode into the room, her arms wrapped firmly around the neck of Mr Prescott, who was straining uselessly against her grasp.

Now, Mr Prescott was no body builder. He was short and scrawny and would have been terrible in a boxing ring but I knew for sure that he shouldn't have had a problem getting away from her. She was tall for a girl, I'll give her that but she was built like one of those overly skinny super models you see on TV.

"Kali," Derek said, annoyance evident in his voice. "You didn't need to follow me up here."

The girl, Kali, flipped long, dark hair out of her face before speaking. "Don't flatter yourself, sweetie. I didn't come here for you."

"Boys, run." Mr Prescott gasped, still struggling.

"Shut up," Kali snapped at him before turning her attention to us. "Okay kiddies, the situation is simple. We have the place surrounded. We outnumber you ten to one and I have a hostage." She pulled Mr Prescott tighter against her as if to prove her point. "I'll give you both to the count of three to come downstairs with us. If you fail to cooperate, I will tear this lovely man's head off and throw you down the stairs myself. Sound fair?"

"Kali," Derek growled as if in warning.

She grinned brightly before beginning to count. "One,"

I instantly took a step forward but my friend snatched me back, his hand trembling on my arm.

"Two,"

I glanced at Isaac and saw tears welling in his eyes as he heaved in a breath and cautiously began to tread forward.

"Don't you dare," Mr Prescott immediately barked, his voice straining against the pressure of the girl's bony arm, and Isaac halted.

"Three."

My gaze travelled back to Mr Prescott. He just stared back at us, calm and collected, like he wasn't even a little afraid, like he had accepted what was about to happen. He even _smiled_ at us.

"Don't forget, I gave you fair warning." Kali growled. She quickly removed her arms from around Mr Prescott's neck, grabbed his head in both hands and twisted. There was a sickening crunch and Mr Prescott fell lifelessly to the ground.

Revulsion, shock and grief washed over me in a cold wave, leaving me shaking where I stood.

"NOOO!" Isaac cried, rushing forward. He moved faster than I thought humanly possible. One moment, he was stood beside me and the next, he was powering into Kali with so much force that both of them flew out of the door and tumbled down the stairs.

"Isaac!" I cried, starting forwards but Derek slammed the door closed before I even made it two steps.

"You're not going anywhere, Stiles. Me and you, we have some business to sort out." He stepped over Mr Prescott's body and shook his head. "I am sorry about _him_ though. That wasn't supposed to happen." He crept towards me, running a hand through his greasy hair to push it back from his face.

And wow. That one simple move did wonders for his looks. Classically handsome is not a phrase I would usually use…like _ever_. But if I were to ever use it to describe a guy, it would have been then. He had pale skin, maybe a little too pale to be healthy but the way it glowed in the moonlight made him look almost ethereal. His pale green eyes glowered at me from underneath dark, prominent eyebrows and light stubble covered his chiselled jaw. And as I stared back, I realised my earlier suspicion was right; there was no way this guy was my age. If I had to guess, I would have said he was at least eighteen.

Snarling howls suddenly ripped through the air, followed by whoops of cruel laughter. Derek sniggered quietly as well. "Looks like the dogs have been let loose."

My heart, already pounding so hard it hurt, sped up even more. They had dogs?

Before anything more could be said, Derek bounded forward, clearing the remaining space between us in less than a second, grabbed me by the neck and smashed me into the nearest wall.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this day." He hissed, his face barely an inch from mine.

"I don't understand," I gasped, struggling to breathe with his large hands around my throat. "I don't even know you."

Derek grinned briefly and in that moment I swear his teeth looked more like fangs. "Nobody knows me. Not really."

He tightened his grip and cut off my air supply completely. Panic consumed me. I'd never been this scared before. Never been this close to death. My brain shut down and instinct took over.

I pushed back against the wall, lifted both my legs and kicked out at Derek with all my might. My feet caught him straight in the stomach and he instantly released his hold on me, clutching at his middle as he tripped backwards over a small tower of bean bag cushions.

I didn't wait for him to recover. With a cry, I made a dash for the door.

I shouldn't have bothered. He was on me before I reached the middle of the room, catching hold of my arm and yanking back hard.

My shoulder screamed in protest and I lost balance, falling gracelessly at his feet. I tried to roll away but he was quicker, raising a booted foot and resting it on my throat but here was no real pressure behind it. He was toying with me, letting we know that he was the one in control here. Like I needed to be told that.

Helplessness washed over me, followed by a surge of anger. "Just do it," I said through gritted teeth, "Finish it."

But he was no longer paying me any attention. He was gazing intently at the door, as though he could see something there that I couldn't and his lips curled back, revealing his fang-like teeth again.

"He's here. Finally." He glanced back down at me. "Sorry, Stiles, but playtime is over."

The last thing I saw was the bottom of his boot as it crashed down towards my face before I was plunged into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 **Author's note -** Hey guys! So it has been FOREVER since I updated this story and I figured I should probably start paying it some kind of attention so here goes! Hope you enjoy.

When I awoke I was lying on a hard, unforgiving bed. Noise surrounded me. People talking, shouting, crying. Multiple sets of footsteps pounded on hard flooring in a fast beat whilst a phone rang incessantly in the background. Nobody seemed to want to answer it.

My face throbbed dully. It started at my nose and pulsed out towards my eyes and mouth. I groaned weakly as the sensation intensified.

"Are you waking up there, kiddo?" A gruff voiced asked to my side. A warm, calloused hand squeezed around mine and I knew instantly that it was my Dad.

Opening my eyes was a long, arduous task. My body didn't seem to belong to me at the moment. It was as though I was stuck in my head, sending out orders that were stubbornly ignored but after what felt like an age, I finally managed to open my eyes just a crack. Bright light assaulted me the moment I did and I snapped my eyes back shut with a shocked flinch.

"Come on, Stiles, open your eyes for me."

I wanted to comply but my lids felt too heavy to get that far and the light really wasn't helping so they only managed to open about half way. Turning my head slightly, I found Dad sitting by my side, his face pale and pinched with concern. His greying hair was in disarray, sticking out in all directions, giving him a slightly wild appearance. "Atta boy," he said, squeezing my hand again, "How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a bus," I replied. Or at least I tried to. It came out a garbled, croaking mess.

"Here, drink this." There was suddenly a straw at my lips and I sipped cautiously at it. Lukewarm water slid down my throat and at first it felt like I was swallowing knives but the sharp burning was soon soothed.

"Thanks," I said, my voice weak but at least understandable. I glanced around at the fluorescent lighting above my head and the blue curtains that surrounded us. "Where am I?"

"Emergency Room. Hospital," Dad answered simply.

I frowned, confused as to why I would be at hospital, hastily sifting through my memories to figure it out.

"What happened? Why do I hurt?" I croaked.

"What do you remember?"

"I was staying the night at Isaac's. We ate pizza and played games."

"And?" Dad pressed.

"That's it."

Dad sighed, running a hand through his hair. Something he always did when he was nervous.

"Dad, what happened?"

"There was an attack."

I choked on a breath. "What?"

"A group of people broke into the Prescott's and attacked us all. Do you really not remember any of it?"

I was beginning to. Even as he spoke, memories began to assail me. Kali counting to three before breaking Mr Prescott's neck, Isaac leaping at her and crashing down the stairs, Derek smashing his boot into my face. That would explain the ache.

"They killed Mr Prescott," I whispered.

Dad nodded grimly. "They did."

Fear flashed through me as I realised who was missing. "Where's Mom? Is she Okay?"

"She's fine, Son, fine." Dad soothed. "But Cheryl isn't doing so well. She's just lost her husband and she's obviously very upset. Your Mom is with her right now."

"And Isaac?"

Dad met this question with silence and my heart dropped.

"And Isaac?" I pressed.

Dad shook his head. "He's missing."

I could feel panic welling up inside me again. "What do you mean, missing? Where would he go? Did…" A horrible thought entered my head. "Did those people take him?"

Dad opened his mouth to answer but at that moment the curtain was drawn aside and a woman in a white coat stepped through, nodding briefly to my dad before turning her gaze to me.

"Oh, you're awake," she stated happily. "How are you feeling?"

It was that question again.

"Sore," I replied.

The woman smiled softly. "I'm not surprised. A broken nose will do that to you."

I frowned. Derek broke my nose? There was no wonder my face hurt.

The lady doctor must have noticed my expression because she added hastily, "But don't you worry about it, young man. No permanent damage was done. Just a small fracture and everything is still in the right position. The swelling should go down in a few days and in about three weeks, your nose will be completely healed. The cut above your lip will take even less than that."

I hadn't realised I had a cut as well but now that she mentioned it I could feel a slight sting beneath the incessant ache.

"Well then, Mr Stilinski," The woman continued. "I just need to ask you a couple of questions before I leave you, okay? Are you experiencing any breathing difficulties?"

It wasn't until the last question that I realised she was talking to me. I mean, _please_ , Mr Stilinski was my _father_.

I shook my head. "No."

"Any headaches?"

"No," I replied again.

"Any pain in your neck?"

"None."

She flashed another smile. "Well then, I see no reason to keep you here any longer. You are free to leave whenever you are ready. Just keep an eye on it, okay? If you find yourself getting worse, call us or your Doctor immediately. Just to be on the safe side."

Dad and I both nodded in agreement and she exited back through the curtains.

"Okay, let's go." I said as I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "Can we go find Mom?"

Dad grimaced. "I'm afraid we can't just yet."

"But the nurse just said - "

"Yes, I know what she said but Dana and Paul are waiting just outside."

Dana and Paul were a couple of my Dad's old work colleagues, back from when he used to be a cop. He decided to switch to a less dangerous occupation last year though I never understood why when he hated his new office job so much.

"They need to take your statement before we leave. I've already given mine. So has Cheryl and your mom."

"My statement?" I'd never had to give of those before.

"They just need to hear your account of what happened and then we can leave. Promise."

No sooner had the words left his mouth, when Dana stuck her head in through the curtains. "I hear the nurse just gave you the all clear. Are we good to come in?"

Dad nodded and the two cops joined us, taking the last couple of seats and dragging them up to sit next to the bed.

If anyone had to take my statement, I was glad it was them. They had come over for a few dinners in the past and we'd gone out on several day trips with them and their families. I felt comfortable around them at least.

"You doing alright there, Stiles? You got a couple of lovely shiners coming on." Paul said.

It was just another way of asking how I was feeling and seriously, the question was really starting to get a little old.

"I'm fine," I sighed.

"Glad to hear it. Now, you've been through a lot in the last few hours and I know you must be tired but we need you to tell us about what happened at the Prescotts. Would that be all right?"

"Sure," I replied, though I felt a little anxious about having to relive the whole nightmare again, and I began recount the events of last night but I'd barely even started when…

"Wait, you just called this boy 'Derek'. Did you know him?" Dana interrupted.

"Oh," I probably should have explained that bit first. "Yeah, he came to my school today. He was supposed to be a new student or something but he only came for the last ten minutes of class."

"You knew him?" Dad exclaimed. "Stiles, why didn't you say anything?"

"I was a little busy freaking out at the time, Dad." I muttered. "And it wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind when I woke up either."

"Did Derek do or say anything to you or Isaac at the school?" Paul intervened before Dad could say anything more.

"Not really. I mean, he followed us to soccer practice and was giving off a real creepy vibe but that's all."

"So what happened after Derek got inside the house?" Dana asked whilst Paul continued to scribble down notes.

I told them the rest of the story without any further interruptions. It was hard to speak about what happened to Mr Prescott but I forced the words out of my mouth anyway and just tried not to think about it too hard. And talking about Isaac falling down the stairs with Charlotte was also difficult, especially since I didn't know what had happened to him after that. It was only when I finished telling them of the fight with Derek that the two cops spoke again.

"When Derek said 'He's here," Paul queried. "Do you know who he meant?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Have you noticed anybody following you around or lurking outside your house lately? Aside from Derek, of course. Or maybe Isaac told you about someone?"

I was about to shake my head again when a sudden thought struck me and I stopped.

Dana noticed. "What is it?"

"It might be nothing," I began. "But there was this homeless guy – at least he _looked_ homeless - outside Isaac's house today. And Isaac told me he'd seen him hanging around there a few times."

"A homeless man?" Paul said as he and Dana exchanged a look that I couldn't interpret. "Can you describe him?"

"Uh, Yeah." I thought back. "He was tall, probably about six feet, and he had blonde hair and this huge bushy beard. He was wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt and I don't think he had washed at all in the last week or so either." That last bit was an afterthought but I figured I should try and tell them everything I could.

Paul and Dana both nodded thoughtfully.

"Stiles, I'm going to show you a few photos." Dana finally said, voice strangely stilted. "Just let me know if any of the people in them look familiar to you, okay?"

I nodded and she brought out her iPad. The first picture was of a man who looked to be in his thirties. It was grainy and looked like it had been taken in secret. His short blonde hair was stylishly gelled back and he looked fairly tall but his dark shades obscured most of his face.

"Did the homeless man you saw look like this?"

I raised an eyebrow at Dana and then looked back at the picture, trying to make out the features on the man's face but failing miserably.

"Sorry, I can't tell." I eventually relented.

"That's okay. Next one."

The next picture was of a young boy about my age with chocolate brown skin and closely cropped hair. This one looked more like a school photo instead of a sneaky snap. He was turned slightly to the side and had one of the fakest smiles I had ever seen plastered across his face. I knew straight away that I had never seen him before.

The third picture was of a young girl with lank blonde hair and a bad case of acne. It was another school photo but unlike the boy, I don't think she'd even attempted to smile. I didn't recognise her either.

We went through a few others, all of them of teenagers, and I was beginning to give up hope of recognising anyone when we finally came to the last photo.

This one showed a boy of about fourteen. His hair was black and stuck up in spiky tufts. His eyes were a greenish colour, maybe hazel, and he was smiling. It wasn't the fake kind of smile that I had seen on the faces of all the other kids in the previous photos. This was a full on, toothy grin that well and truly reached his eyes. But it was his eyebrows that really caught my attention. I'd only seen eyebrows that powerful once before and I gasped in recognition.

"Derek?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 **Author's note – Howdy folks! So this chapter was going to be longer but I physically can't keep my eyes open any longer and I figure I've written enough for it to be classed as a chapter so I'm going with that. A great big thanks to everyone who has commented, followed or favourited the story so far. The support really makes my day. Hope you enjoy. =D**

Dana and Paul exchanged another unreadable look. "This is the Derek that attacked you?"

"Yeah," I nodded, still staring at the picture in her hand. "I mean, it looks _just_ like him but the Derek Watts I met was older than this and a lot less…smiley."

"That picture was taken six years ago. About a week before he went missing." Dana explained.

My head snapped up of its own accord and I winced sharply. Fast movement did _not_ help my throbbing face. "Went missing?"

Paul leaned forward in his seat, hands clasped tightly together. "This boy's real name is Derek Hale. He and his two sisters were taken from their home one evening whilst their parents were out. When the parents returned home and realised their children were gone, the police were called and search parties were sent out. The eldest of the children, Laura, was found dead in the woods surrounding their house, but no trace of the others could be found."

The story was beginning to sound horrifyingly familiar now. I vaguely remembered hearing about it on the news when I was younger. It had become a nationwide search for the other two by the time news reached me, but after months of finding nothing, the story was dropped and slowly forgotten by the rest of the world.

"I don't think Stiles needs to hear this." My dad said, standing suddenly. "He's had a rough night and we really do need to be going home."

I only just managed to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. He was just trying to protect me. He was _always_ trying to protect me. Don't get me wrong, it was one of the many reasons why I loved the man, but I wasn't quite ready to let this go just yet. I still had far too many unanswered questions. "Do you know who took them?"

Paul shot a glance at Dad, who just sighed resignedly and sunk back down onto his chair. "You might as well tell him. He's just going to Google it all later if you don't."

Another reason why I loved him; he just got me.

"All the evidence points to the kids' uncle, Peter." Paul said. "He was supposed to be babysitting them whilst their parents were gone and he was nowhere to be found after the incident."

"Since then, it seems he and Derek have partnered together," Dana went on. "They've been spotted all across the US. Texas, Washington, Maine…they never stay in one place too long. And wherever they go, people die and kids go missing."

"So…" I was struggling to put things together now. The already dark story had just taken an ever darker turn. "Derek's uncle kidnapped him but now they're working together to kidnap more kids?"

That made no sense to me. Why would Derek willingly help his kidnapper? Unless, maybe he wasn't willing…but then why not run away when he had the chance? He could have easily asked for help or taken off whilst at school earlier. If his Uncle gave chase…well, it wasn't as if Derek was small exactly and he could definitely fight. My broken nose was testament to that.

"That's the working theory." Paul confirmed. "That first picture we showed you is the clearest photo we've manged to get of Peter so far, but the others? They're all the children who have gone missing over the last six years with evidence in each case pointing straight to either Peter or Derek."

I must have seen about twenty pictures of kids aged between twelve and sixteen. That was a lot of children, and the question I had asked my dad just an hour ago came back to me in an instant.

"Do you think they took Isaac?" I practically whispered, my throat beginning to close anxiously as I waited for an answer.

For one horrible moment, nobody spoke, my question hanging limp and unwelcome in the air. Eventually, Dana gave in to the uneasy silence and heaved a heavy sigh. "We don't know for sure but now that we've established Derek is here, and maybe Peter too, it's a strong possibility."

* * *

Dad and I drove home in complete silence, both of us too absorbed in our own thoughts to even attempt conversation.

I couldn't stop thinking about Derek and Peter and all the children that had gone missing because of them.

I couldn't stop thinking about Isaac. About what he must be going through right now. How scared he must be.

I couldn't stop thinking that it could have just as easily been me that had been kidnapped. Isaac and I were the same age, the same height, the same build. It would have been just as easy to take me…or take us both. Derek had had the perfect opportunity back when we were alone in Isaac's room but he'd seemed more intent on beating me to a pulp than kidnaping me. Their target must have been Isaac all along. _Just_ Isaac. But why? What could they possibly want with him? He was just a lanky kid who slept too much and sucked at Xbox.

The sky was beginning to brighten by the time we finally turned onto our street, the dark blue of night merging into deep shades of red and pink as the sun slowly rose.

It was still early so the street was mostly empty but the Prescott household had been completely cordoned off and was buzzing with police activity. A few of our neighbours had wandered out onto the road, clad in dressing gowns and slippers, to see what all the commotion was about, whilst a couple of the cops tried to keep them all away from the crime scene.

Dad quickly parked up in front of our house and hurriedly ushered me inside before one of the neighbours could catch us and start asking questions. I don't think either of us were ready to deal with any more of those at this point.

We'd barely closed the door behind us when Mum greeted me with a hug that literally squeezed every ounce of air from my lungs. She may have been a ninja in a past life but in this one, she was a miniature version of the Hulk.

"Are you all right?" she wailed into my shoulder.

"I was," I gasped, squirming in her unrelenting hold.

"Oh, sorry," she murmured, thankfully realising that as a mere human, I needed to breathe, and her grip loosened enough for me to suck in a shallow breath.

After she'd checked me over several times to make sure my nose wasn't going to snap off suddenly and that I wasn't going to fall apart any time soon, we made our way to the kitchen and collapsed onto some chairs at the breakfast table.

"Are you sure you're all right, honey?" Mum asked again once we were seated.

In all honesty, I wasn't sure that I was. Physically, I felt okay. My face was incredibly sore and an ache in my shoulder was beginning to make itself known from when it had been yanked on too hard but it was nothing a couple of Tylenol wouldn't fix. But I didn't know quite where I stood emotionally. For the most part, I just felt numb. I was freaked out and worried for my friend obviously but I also felt oddly detached from the situation. Like this had all happened to someone else and I was just a bystander in it all.

"I'm fine," I said. It was the simpler answer.

"Where is Cheryl?" Dad cut in, saving me from any further interrogation.

"Upstairs in the spare room. Sleeping, I hope," Mum replied quietly. "I tried to console her as best I could but…she's really broken up right now. Not that I blame her, of course. I can't even imagine what she's going through. Losing her husband and son like that."

A flash of emotion, not quite fear and not quite anger but something in between, surged through me, momentarily overcoming the emptiness I felt. "She didn't lose her son." I snapped. "Isaac's not dead."

Mum stared at me, temporarily taken aback. "I know that, sweetheart." She finally said, in that soothing voice all mothers seem to possess, the one that calms you down even when you want to stay angry. "But he is missing."

"So then we need to find him," I murmured, struggling to reign in all my scattered thoughts to form a cohesive plan of just how we were going to find my friend.

"Later," Dad said. "First you need to get some rest."

"But - "

"Sleep, Stiles. You're no use to anyone if you wear yourself out." His voice left no room for discussion and deep down, I knew that what he said made sense. But it didn't mean I had to like it.

"Fine," I huffed and slunk off sullenly to my bedroom.

As I reached the top of the stairs, sleep was beginning to seem like the best idea my dad had ever had. My eyelids were heavy and my legs felt like lead. I really was tired.

Sunlight had already begun to pour into my room through the gap in between the curtains. For a moment I was tempted to ignore it and just hide under my blanket but then thought better of it. I was tired, sure, but I always struggled to get to sleep without the aid of darkness.

I made my way over to the window, about to snap the curtains shut when I stopped dead in my tracks, cold dread pooling in my stomach and waking me up in an instant.

My bedroom window looked out onto an alley at the back of our street. It was extremely narrow and very seldom used. Whenever I opened or closed my curtains, in all my years of living there, the alley was always empty.

But it wasn't empty now.

A shadowy figure stood at out back gate, long black coat hanging from broad shoulders and long, greasy hair obscuring most of his face. I couldn't see his eyes but I could still feel his gaze on me, the dark intensity of it enough to take my breath away.

A strangled gasp escaped my mouth and I stumbled backwards. This couldn't be happening. Not again. I couldn't go through last night all over again.

I opened my mouth, about to shout for my Dad, my Mom, the cops outside, _anyone_ who could help get rid of the unwelcome visitor but then my brain kicked back into gear.

It didn't make sense that Derek would be here. He got what he came for. He got Isaac. And now that the police had the whole neighbourhood surrounded, there was no way he would have stuck around. He would have been long gone by now.

Taking the deepest breath I could despite my panic seized chest, I crept back towards the window, making sure I stayed behind the cover of my curtains as I peered through the gap again.

I was both relieved and concerned when I was greeted by the sight of an empty alleyway.

Derek Hale was nowhere to be seen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It felt like only minutes later that I opened my eyes again, abruptly woken when Mom came bustling into my room with a large suitcase.

"It's time to wake up, Stiles," she told me, flicking on the light.

I groaned and threw an arm across my face to shield my eyes from the unwelcome glare. "What time is it?"

"Around twelve," she said offhandedly and I groaned again. It was so _not_ time to wake up.

I heard the clasps of the suitcase open and I peered at Mom from under the shade of my arm, watching dazedly as she started emptying my clothes drawers.

"Umm…what are you doing?" I asked, finally pushing myself into an almost upright position.

"Packing, of course," was the reply I was met with because it seemed my mother had decided to be as uncooperative as was humanly possible.

"Why?"

"Because it's not safe here anymore. _You're_ not safe here anymore."

Her words had me bolting from my bed, suddenly wide awake. "No!" I protested, remembering the hushed conversation I had overheard last night. "No, we are not moving again."

"Stiles," she sighed heavily. "Don't fight me on this. It's happening whether you like it or not."

"But what about Isaac? And Mrs Prescott?" I said, most definitely fighting her on this. I was a teenager after all, defying my parents' wishes was pretty much my fulltime job. "We can't just leave now. They need us."

Mom just shook her head sadly. "They do need help, sweetheart, but not yours."

I opened my mouth to argue further but she carried on quickly. "You're just a kid, Stiles. This isn't your responsibility. It's not your fight. Your dad and I can handle it just fine. We just want you safe."

The kid remark stung but I ignored it for the moment. "Isaac is my best friend so of course it's my responsibility. I was there when he was taken. I couldn't do anything to help him then but I can now. I can help get him back!"

Mom stood and I suddenly found myself in a mother-bear hug. "We will get him back," she murmured into my hair. "We'll find him and when we do, I promise we'll all come and join you."

My heart froze and I pulled out of her grasp. "What do you mean, you'll join me? You guys are coming too, right?"

Mom looked me in the eyes, hers full of regret and sadness and I already knew the answer. "We can't. Your dad and I are needed here first."

"You're sending me off alone?" The three of us splitting town was bad enough. Splitting town by myself was unthinkable. Especially when I didn't even know where it was I was supposed to be going.

"Not alone," Mom disagreed. "Your dad is going to drive you there and then you're going to be staying with family."

"What family?" So far as I was aware, there was me, Mom and Dad. That was it, the extent of my family tree. Neither of them spoke about the families they came from or about their pasts and whenever I tried to ask, they clammed up real fast so I learned not to pry. Not into _their_ business anyway. Everyone else was free game.

"I have a… _had_ a brother back in Beacon Hills, California, where I grew up. He died a few years ago but his wife, Melissa and their son are still there. You're going to stay with them until this whole mess is cleared up. I already checked in with them and although they are upset about the circumstances, they're still really looking forward to meeting you."

I wished I could say the same.

"What about my other friends?" I asked, scrabbling for reasons to stay. "And school? Mom, my whole _life_ is here. I can't just drop everything and go to California."

"You can and you will." Mom retorted, all sympathy now gone. She wasn't going to let me win this one. "I'll sort everything with school and you can call your friends on your way to Beacon Hills."

"My phone's broke."

"So we'll buy you and new one." Mom supplied. "And you can email your friends or Skype them or Facebook them…whatever it is you kids do these days. Now, come on and help me pack. We don't have long."

Why we didn't have long, I don't know. I personally didn't see the need to rush but within the space of about half an hour, I was packed, showered and bundled into the car, having already said my goodbyes to Mom and Mrs Prescott, who made a small appearance just before I left.

Mom had made me promise to call her at least twice every week and then cried all over me like it was my idea to leave home and not hers. I patted her awkwardly on the back and tried to act as though I hadn't just been completely betrayed, which was hard since betrayed was definitely something I was feeling.

"You do know this isn't long term, don't you?" Dad said ten minutes into the journey. I hadn't said a word yet, too busy formulating a plan in my head of how to help Isaac whilst stuck all the way over in California.

"I need a phone." I informed him bluntly, deciding to ignore his question.

"What?" Apparently Mom hadn't told him.

"Isaac broke mine yesterday. Heat of the moment and all that. I'll need a new one if you guys want me to keep in contact."

Dad raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure Melissa has a land line. _But_ \- " he quickly added when he saw I was about to argue. "I'm sure we can stop off somewhere and get you one."

I settled back into my seat. "Okay, thanks." Maybe it was the millennial in me but I needed to have a cell. They were my lifeline. "So who are these people I'm staying with? You've never mentioned them before."

Dad chuckled humourlessly. "Yeah, I know. Your mother and Rafael, her brother …they had a falling out some years back. Over me. He didn't like me very much and practically forbade your mom to marry me which as you can imagine, did not go down well at all."

I grinned despite myself. No one told my mom what to do.

"She went ahead and married me anyway and the two of them refused to speak after that."

"Well," I said. "If it's any consolation, I think you're a swell guy."

"That's good to hear," Dad laughed.

"Mom said he died?"

Dad grimaced. "Yes, he did. About five years ago. There was a fire, I think, in one of the schools, and he and a few others unfortunately lost their lives."

"Wow. That sucks." It was an understatement for sure but eloquence was never my strong suit.

"Yeah, it does." Dad agreed solemnly. "So it's Rafael's wife and son you'll be staying with. Melissa and Scott McCall. Scott's about your age, I think, and into sports so you never know, the two of you might hit it off.

I wasn't so sure but I was willing to at least give it a try. Maybe that could be the silver lining on this huge dark cloud that was my life.

* * *

The journey was uneventful for the most part. We only stopped twice. Once to buy my new cell phone and once to grab something to eat. And although the drive hadn't been a hard one exactly, it had been a long one. By the time we reached the McCall household, it was past five in the afternoon.

And what a household it was.

The place was enormous, three stories high (including the basement), mint green in colour and it had a full length porch. I don't think I'd ever lived in a house that even had a small porch.

"Well, this is it." Dad announced as I followed him out of the car, grabbing my suitcase before making my way to the front door, which swung open before I'd even had time to push the doorbell.

A woman in green scrubs that I guessed to be Melissa greeted us with a bright smile and ushered us inside. "You finally made it," She exclaimed, giving my Dad a quick hug. "I was beginning to get worried."

Dad didn't have time to reply before she was hugging me. "And you must be Stiles, right?" She pulled back to scrutinize my face some more. "You look so much like your mother."

That's something I had been told my whole life. Personally, I didn't see it.

"Well, let me show you to your room before anything else. I have to be going to work soon; I'm working night shifts this week, but I want you settled in first."

She took us upstairs and led us to a room at the end of the corridor. "This one will be yours."

I walked in and had to force myself not to gawp like an idiot. Just like the rest of the house, it was huge, with its very own double bed, wardrobe and drawers, desk and wall mounted TV.

"I know it doesn't have a lot of character right now so feel free to decorate it however you like." Melissa said.

I shook my head at her. "It's perfect. Thank you."

Dad raised his eyebrows at me and I shot him a withering look in return. Like I didn't know how to use manners.

"Scott's room is next door." Melissa continued. "And the bathroom is next to his."

"Where is Scott?" Dad asked. "I was hoping to meet him before I left."

Melissa grimaced. "Sorry, he's asleep. He had an asthma attack during Lacrosse practice today so he's not feeling so great right now."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he feels better soon."

"He will," she assured us.

Dad stayed for another ten minutes before leaving, refusing Melissa's offer of a cup of tea. "I really must be going." He said. "It's a long drive back."

I couldn't dispute that but it was still hard to see him go when I knew I wouldn't be seeing him again for a while. It must have been hard for him too because when he hugged me, he didn't let me go for near enough a whole minute. "You be good, you hear?" he sniffed when he finally pulled away.

I offered him a shaky grin. "Aren't I always?"

He smiled in return, ruffled my hair and then he was gone.

Melissa left not too long after him but told me to make myself at home whilst she was gone.

I did as ordered and decided to familiarise myself with my new home, taking myself on a tour of the whole house, excluding Melissa's and Scott's rooms for obvious reasons, and also the basement because those things are just creepy and should never be explored alone.

The tour ended in the living room, where I found a bunch of family photos. Some hung on the wall whilst there were some smaller ones that stood on a cabinet in the corner.

The ones on the wall were obviously professionally done and showed three people. One was Melissa , looking a little younger, and dressed in a green t-shirt and jeans. The other two, I hadn't met before but knew who they must be.

Next to Melissa was Rafael, a man with dark eyes and brown hair that was worn swept back from his face. It was hard to believe that he and my mom were related. They looked _nothing_ alike. Beside him was a boy of about ten, with a brown mop of curly hair, those same dark eyes and a slightly crooked jaw. That must be Scott.

They were all smiling, looking so happy it almost hurt to look at the picture, knowing that one of them was no longer here.

The ones on the cabinet were more recent, showing Melissa as she was now and a teenage boy about my own age.

In one of the photos, the boy was wearing some sort of sports wear, a dark red t-shirt with a huge number eleven plastered across the front of it. I figured that must be the lacrosse uniform.

Lacrosse wasn't a sport I'd ever really tried since none of my schools had had a team but maybe I could try it sometime and bond with my cousin that way.

After a thorough investigation of all the pictures, I finally collapsed onto one of the sofas and switched on TV, delighted to find they had Netflix and settled down to binge watch 'Bates Motel' for the remainder of the evening.

* * *

The only problem with binge watching something is that eventually you fall asleep, whether you intended to or not. At least, that's how it worked for me. I woke up sometime later, to a strange rasping noise. I could only just hear it over the soft hum of the TV and, for one sleep addled moment, considered simply ignoring it, rolling over and going back to sleep but then I remembered I wasn't alone in the house. My cousin was here too.

Scott.

Who had asthma.

Panic flared through me as I shot off the couch and raced up the stairs before I even realised what I was doing. I flung open the door to Scott's room to find him sprawled out on the floor, his face stark white and mashed against the carpet as he gasped in wheezing breaths, his hand outstretched toward the opposite side of the room.

"Scott!" I cried and dashed in to sit him up against his bed. I didn't know a whole lot about asthma but I figured breathing would be easier ifyour lungs weren't being squashed. "Where's your inhaler? Scott, where is your inhaler?"

Scott's brown eyes were bleary and unfocused as they darted around the room, his breaths only getting shallower and I knew there was no way I was going to get a coherent answer out of him. I quickly scanned the room until I found what I guessed to be his school backpack in the far corner. That seemed to be the most sensible place to put it and I hurried over to it to dump its contents onto the ground. Books and papers spilled out, followed by a few pens and pencils and then finally the required blue device fell out.

I leapt over the small mess I had just created, uncapping the inhaler as I did, and practically shoved the thing into his hand.

He didn't even look at it, his eyes now staring blankly at the far wall. His hand stayed unmoving at his side.

"Dude, you need to use your inhaler." I told him.

Still no response.

I crouched down in front of him, patting his sweating face to try and get him to focus on me. "Come on, buddy, I need you to help me out here."

Still nothing. Not a twitch. His skin was worryingly pale now and there was a tint of blue to his lips that was not there before.

I swore and grabbed the inhaler again, quickly thinking back to every movie I had ever watched where an inhaler had been used. In the end, I just copied what I had seen, shaking it briefly before putting one end of it to his lips whilst pressing down on the other.

By some miracle, it worked and the inhaler dispensed a dose of whatever it was that was supposed to stop the attack.

"Breathe," I muttered. "Just breathe it in, _please_."

My pleas went unheard. Scott was still as motionless as before and I was clean out of ideas.


End file.
